Dragons of the Sunset
by Jaenera Targaryen
Summary: Years before the Doom of Valyria, a different choice was made. Now, two years before the doom, dragons and men gather on Dragonstone, before setting off to seek glory in the lands of the Sunset Kingdoms [INDEFINITE HIATUS DUE TO WRITER'S BLOCK].
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire and related media, it belongs to G.R.R. Martin.

Dragons of the Sunset

Prologue

Ten years ago, the Dragonlady Daenys Targaryen had a dream.

She dreamed of Valyria, of the topless towers rising to the azure heavens, dragons soaring in the sky, magic unfolding with limitless potential, of smiths and craftsmen forging items from metal, gems, dragonbone and wood beyond compare. She dreamed of Valyria the Eternal, with its mighty dragons and great armies, its proud lords and citizens, its beautiful cities and monuments.

She dreamed it all come to an end.

She dreamed of fire, raining down from the heavens with dragonglass and ash, towers falling and cities burning, of dragons and men falling to the cackling of demons and the groan of the earth being rent asunder.

Her father the Dragonlord Aenar Targaryen the Lord Freeholder of House Targaryen had taken heed of his daughter's prophecy. He took his family, their dragons, their wealth and all their possessions west, to a lonely volcanic island in Blackwater Bay which lay to the east of the Sunset Kingdoms. There he took up residence in a mighty castle of fire-forged, seamless rock, the new home and stronghold of his family: Dragonstone.

In one world, Aenar Targaryen had sought to convince his fellow dragonlords of the truth behind his daughter's prophecies, and was mocked and laughed at as he left Valyria, House Targaryen scorned as cowards fleeing from a dream, their status in the homeland and the senate in ruins. And twelve years later, in their lonely exile, they would prove to be the only survivors when doom came to Valyria.

But this is not that world.

This is a world where Aenar Targaryen disguised his withdrawal to the frontier as a show of graceful concession to recent Targaryen reversals in the power-politics of the Valyrian Senate – for thousands of years law and custom forbade direct confrontations between dragonlords due to the potential for destruction such a confrontation would wreak on the Freehold – by taking up the post of Praetor of the Western Frontier, and his relocation to Dragonstone as a means to demonstrate his commitment to the task. His fellow dragonlords lauded this show of grace, and ensured that House Targaryen would continue to be considered worthy of their station.

This was demonstrated when Aenar Targaryen perished six years into his new post from an accident, with allies and enemies alike sending condolences to his son and successor to the position of Lord Freeholder of House Targaryen and Praetor of the Western Frontier, Gaemon Targaryen.

Gaemon Targaryen despite his grief over his father's passing decided to use this chance to simultaneously improve his family's standing while discreetly ensuring – in case his sister-wife's prophecy came to pass – that Valyria and its people would survive, and in time reclaim lost glory. To that end he'd discreetly opened negotiations with the militarist faction in the senate, and considering that in addition to Dragonstone the Freehold already had ships based on Driftmark and at Claw Isle – also under Targaryen control – with which to control the Narrow Sea, it didn't take long for them to be convinced of Dragonstone and its surrounding islands' ideal position as a staging point for an invasion of the Sunset Kingdoms.

Getting a majority in the senate was considerably more difficult, and entailed much compromise before the senate voted for funds and to ratify the consuls' proclamation of a war of conquest against the Sunset Kingdoms. Along with the position of imperator for the campaign, Gaemon had been granted official permission to establish a Valyrian colony from which to govern the New Territories, with House Targaryen having hereditary pro-consular authority over the prospective colony until and if the senate deemed it appropriate to grant a free charter.

This was a grand opportunity for House Targaryen…and a double-edged blade. Success would catapult them higher among their forty fellow dragonlord families, but failure would be completely on Gaemon's head, and the shame would take centuries to be expunged from the family.

The risks were big…but the rewards were just as great: a chance for Gaemon to advance his family's fortunes, and ensure the future of their people in case the worst happened.

* * *

Dragonlady Renaera Tareris stood silent in her armour and battle attire as she watched and listened as Lord Freeholder Gaemon Targaryen laid out his plan for the assembled dragonlords or rather _dragonriders_ in Dragonstone's Chamber of the Painted Table. Including her and the Lord Freeholder, there were about eighty of them in the room at least one from each of the forty dragonlord families: second sons, scions of cadet lines, and troublesome warrior daughters who had yet to be or could not be married off.

All of them were in armour and battle attire, though a few wore armour and attire usually used by common legionaries…honorary dragonlords – citizens who by luck or some miracle had succeeded in surviving an encounter with and taming a wild dragon – no doubt.

"With respect Lord Freeholder…" one of the other dragonlords spoke up after Gaemon had finished speaking. "…if we're committing ourselves to bringing low the Storm King, why do we stop at the southern border of the King of the Isles and Rivers? I understand that with our current forces…"

" _A hundred thousand men…_ " Renaera thought. " _…fifty thousand legionaries, thirty thousand on foot and twenty thousand on horse, and another fifty thousand Essosi auxiliaries on foot and horse, along with siege units. We'll also have sorcerers, engineers, and architects, though the latter two won't be sent to the frontlines, instead they'll be put to work on the new colony._ "

"…an invasion of Dorne, the Reach, and the Kingdom of the Rock would be foolhardy to say nothing of the North, but I daresay we could take the Vale of Arryn and the Riverlands with little difficulty."

There were nods and murmurs at that, including Gaemon. "Yes we could." He agreed. "The problem would be holding the territory we take. In the Riverlands we simply don't have enough men to garrison every town and village we take, unless we want to burn and enslave everyone we come across, and that would leave us with empty land of no use: it takes time and money to move settlers across the sea. Apart from all that wasted land occupied for no gain, we'd also stretch our forces thin, leaving us vulnerable to internal revolt and external threats from elsewhere. Even our dragons can't be everywhere at once."

Gaemon indicated the map. "And even if we take the Riverlands…" he said. "…the Iron Islands beyond would be beyond the reach of our fleet, at least in the short-term. And the Vale of Arryn presents its own difficulties. The Valemen would simply melt into the mountains and bleed our forces white as we try and root them out."

"We could just burn the Vale to the ground…" one dragonlord put in, but was interrupted by another.

"And leaving the Freehold with empty land useless until we can move settlers in." he said. "And the Vale has a similar climate to the North. Not as cold…but still cold and unappealing. Most settlers would prefer the lush lands to the south, in the New Territories and the Stormlands."

"Quite…" Gaemon agreed. "…and that is precisely what we are going for. If we secure the goals I've set out, then within a generation we will have a foothold from which we can slowly but steadily advance further into the Sunset Kingdoms. With exceptions of course…the North as I've already stated is no good to us. The weather is terrible, and rooting the locals out close to impossible given the sheer size of the North. Therefore I say: let the Northmen keep their frozen lands, so long as they stay out of our way."

Gaemon gestured at the rest of the map. "There's plenty of lands outside of the North." He said. "Even with the third of the New Territories and the Stormlands that would be due to us and our soldiers, there will plenty of land – and slaves – to whet the appetites of the people home. At the latest I see the next campaign into the Sunset Kingdoms taking placing within a century. And at the soonest, a decade..."

Gaemon trailed off with a smile, a smile shared by his fellow dragonlords. That was why they were here after all: to add glory to their names, properties of their own, prestige for their families, and to advance their standing within their own families, all things that would not be possible had they stayed in the homeland.

And none had greater to gain than House Targaryen. A successful campaign and founding of a new colony would elevate them from the low-ten dragonlord families to the mid-twenty, similar to the dragonlord families which had founded and still wielded great influence over the Free Cities of the Essosi Territories.

His briefing at an end, Gaemon turned to his son Aegon to begin a hushed discussion and joined by a few older dragonlords and the legates of the legions and the fleet taking part in the campaign. Renaera looked around her, the dragonlords and dragonladies excitedly discussing future prospects among each other, and then made her way to an uncomfortable-looking young man in a legionary's uniform and armour.

"Hello there. You're an honorary dragonlord aren't you?" She said with a smile and he glanced sharply at her. "My name's Renaera Tareris. What's yours?"

"I…my apologies my lady, my name is Aenyx and…well…as you probably know I don't really have a noble name yet."

Renaera laughed but not unkindly, and held out a hand which Aenyx hesitantly took and shook. "Oh enough with the formality…" she said. "…apart from the fact that my family's just a cadet line, there's also the fact that I'm just a dragonrider with no prospect of marriage back home. I imagine it's the same for you, isn't it?"

"Well…yes…that's right Lady Renaera."

 _Honorary dragonlords were the only socially-acceptable source of fresh blood for the dragonlord families at least once it was proven that their dragons truly were wild and not simply a runaway._

"So how'd you meet and tame your dragon?"

Aenyx shrugged, relaxing as the topic turned elsewhere from ambitions and social background. "My father served in the army in his youth." He said. "We came from a village along the east coast of the homeland, so instead of a plot of land to till he got a fishing boat instead when he retired."

Renaera nodded in understanding, that much was usual for retired veterans.

"Anyway there was this cove some way up the coast, where I and my siblings liked to play at." Aenyx continued. "One day this dragon just limps its way down from the sky, and…well it was wild considering all the snapping and warning blasts it kept sending our way. Otherwise it might have been wary but not that wary, seeing us as a possible way for help."

"And you still came closer…? That's rather brave of you."

"Not really…" Aenyx said with a slightly-embarrassed smile. "…I just…I just felt sorry you know. The wounds weren't that bad, they were already clotting when the dragon got there, but still…anyway I brought food for it, my father said it might placate the dragon until it could fly away but…"

"Let me guess: it stuck around."

Aenyx nodded. "Eventually word got out and a group of men arrived to see if it really was a wild dragon." he said. "Seafyre wouldn't let them come close at first until I managed to convince him to calm down, and eventually the men confirmed that it really was a wild dragon. Didn't take long before I got a certification for honorary dragonlord after that…"

Renaera nodded. "I'm surprised your Lord Freeholder didn't decide to have you stick around." She said. "People like you don't exactly grow on trees."

"Unfortunately Lord Caentalos didn't have any female relatives to spare at the time…" Aenyx said. "…and it's not like I could just marry into his family's main branch. The Caentalos are after all cadets of one of the high-ten."

"And he didn't want to simply give you up to a rival cadet line or to another clan…"

Aenyx nodded in his turn. "After that though word got out about Lord Targaryen's expedition to the west, and I decided that here was chance to be more than just 'fresh blood'. No offence Lady Renaera."

"None taken…" she said while looking around them. "…it's not like I've got dissimilar goals myself. Without any men in my clan close to me in age, it's not like I have much prospects beyond getting married off for a political alliance. This way I can be more than that, and prove it to the Lord Freeholders in my clan too."

Aenyx smiled and made to speak but fell silent as Gaemon held a hand up for silence. "Legate Velaryon informs me that the winds and waves are favourable." He said. "Therefore the fleet will set sail in time for us to land by dawn tomorrow. Our forces have already begun embarking, and so I would suggest that we prepare for departure."

Gaemon paused, and then slowly swept his eyes over his fellow dragonlords and dragonladies. He paused briefly at each of the honorary ones – there were three of them, two men and one woman – but smiled as none of them flinched. "This will be our moment my friends." He said. "May the Fourteen be with us all: all praises."

"All praises…!"

* * *

A/N

My interpretation of Valyria is based on the Roman Republic, which isn't that far-fetched seeing that much like Valyria all landowners technically had a say in the governance of the republic, but was ultimately dominated by the patrician families. Same with Valyria: all Freeholders technically have a say in Valyrian politics, but in practice only the forty dragonlord families/clans (including their cadet lines) dominate Valyrian politics.

One more thing before I come to an end: in canon the maesters and the septons claim the Valyrians had hundreds of gods, but what do they know? Have they actually spoken to a Valyrian much less visited Valyria? Here the Valyrians have fourteen gods, one for each of the Fourteen Flames (volcanoes) of their homeland.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire and related media, it belongs to G.R.R. Martin.

Dragons of the Sunset

Chapter 1

The Valyrian fleet slowly but steadily proceeded over the waters of the Blackwater Bay towards the river's mouth, sails furled and with oars slowly dipping in-sync into the waters to push the great fleet towards the shores of the Sunset Kingdoms. Legate Vaemar Velaryon, Proconsul of Driftmark stood on the command deck of his flagship the hexareme _Tide Breaker_ , looking out over the waters of the bay in the Moonlight.

As Legate of the Western Fleet, Vaemar normally commanded the two hundred-odd ships with which the Freehold controlled the centre of the Narrow Sea. It was small compared to the fleets of the Free Cities of the Essosi Territories – Volantis alone had a fleet of well over five hundred ships – to say nothing of the greater Freehold, which could muster thousands of ships by itself. Not that he really needed a big fleet: the petty kingdoms which surrounded the Blackwater could each muster at most three proper warships, and that was rare in itself, to say nothing of the poor quality of their crews compared to the professional, citizen-soldiers of the Freehold.

The Kingdom in the North and the Kingdom of the Mountains and the Vale had more ships and better men, operating from Gulltown and White Harbor, but not real threats to Valyrian naval supremacy in the Narrow Sea. Indeed the only real naval threats from the Sunset Kingdoms were on the other side of the continent, the royal fleets of the Kings of the Rock, of the Reach and of the Isles and Rivers based from Oldtown, Lannisport, and Pyke.

Vaemar knew that in the event of war with the Sunset Kingdoms – prior to the current expedition that is – his fleet would be tasked with setting and containing a 'line' of battle in the middle of the Narrow Sea, behind which the fleets of the Free Cities and the Freehold would assemble before sailing out to crush the Westerosi. And of course, that didn't factor in the dragons from Dragonstone, usually those of the resident praetor and his family, a position currently held by House Targaryen.

Times and things changed though, and reinforcement from the homeland meant that Vaemar now commanded a huge fleet of a full one thousand ships, mostly triremes back by larger quadriremes and quinqueremes for the battle fleet, smaller biremes carrying the men of the army and would be landing them as well, and the giant hexareme flagships. Of these only four hundred were taking part in the landings and then to secure the coasts of the Blackwater afterwards, with another four hundred ships moving south to take up a position near the Stepstones in case the fleets of the Reach, the Rock, and the Isles and Rivers tried to challenge the Valyrians at sea.

The remaining two hundred ships were to the north, as a guard against the Arryns and the Northmen. Not that Vaemar believed the Arryns would be foolish enough to fight them at sea without a proper fleet of their own, and personally he didn't think the Northmen would help the Andal southerners on either land or sea.

From what he knew, there was little love lost between the 'First Men' and their King in the North, and the Andal Kingdoms of greater Westeros.

Still, as the legate with overall authority over naval matters, it did well to plan for any possibility that might arise, especially with the Rhoynish whore's descendants ruling over the southernmost of the Sunset Kingdoms. The Dornish might not have a fleet, but that didn't mean they couldn't whip up sentiments in the bordering Reach against Valyria.

The Freehold hadn't planned to go that far – yet – but that didn't mean trouble couldn't come from that quarter either.

No, it was better to be careful now than to pay for carelessness later on.

* * *

Dragonlord Aegon Targaryen was woken by his sister-wife Elaena Targaryen early before the dawn, and was served a light breakfast in the candlelight before she helped him put his armour on. His torso armour was made from more expensive segmented plate than the cheaper – but just as serviceable – mail armour favoured by most ordinary soldiers, though all forms of Valyrian armour incorporated segmented plates over parts of the arm exposed by the torso armour.

Normal steel of course: dragonsteel was too expensive, difficult and even _dangerous_ to make for it to be used in armour or indeed anything that required lots of metal. Only swords and similarly-scaled items were made from dragonsteel, and even then they were uncommon. For instance House Targaryen only had two dragonsteel swords, and even if they were ranked among the low-ten they were still a dragonlord family.

Elaena fastened her brother's cloak over his shoulders, and then watched silently as he strapped Dark Sister to his waist along with a dragonglass dagger behind him. She smiled as her husband finished his preparations and held out his helmet.

"Take care of yourself." She said. They'd always been close, even before they'd been taught as per the traditions of the Valyrian Dragonlords that they'd be wed to each other, more so than their parents. Not that Gaemon and Daenys had had an unhappy marriage but Gaemon's ambitions and Daenys' prophecies had coloured their relationship, though they did all they could to keep it from affecting their children.

"I will." Aegon said. "Take care of Aerys and Maegor until I get back and of course mother as well."

Elaena chuckled. "I'll take care of the children, don't worry about that." She said, stepping forward and embracing her brother. "And mother can take care of herself. But you…don't get killed out there. Our children are still so young and…and…I don't want this to be the last time we see each other."

"It won't." Aegon assured Elaena, returning the embrace and kissing her silver-gold hair. "I'll be back, and when I do we could probably leave this castle to another praetor before settling down on new lands to the west. We could have more children, and raise them someplace better than this dusty stone castle in the middle of the sea."

Elaena pulled back, and smiled at him. "I'll hold you to that." She said, and closing her eyes exchanged a kiss with her brother. "You should go you wouldn't want to be left for the horn blowing, would you?"

Aegon smiled and shook his head, and left his and his sister-wife's chambers, Elaena accompanying him until they reached the doors to the nursery. "Mother's here I think." Aegon said, and opened the door. Sure enough Daenys Targaryen was there, holding her infant grandson in her arms while her other grandson, Aerys, a boy of three snoozed in a nearby sofa.

"Aegon…" Daenys said with a nod. "…Elaena…good morning."

"Good morning mother." The siblings said, and Daenys smiled.

"Take care, Aegon…" she said. "…you and Elaena get along so well, that it would a shame if this is far as you get. You certainly have a brighter future together than me or your father had…"

Daenys trailed off and shook her head. "No, don't mind this old woman's ramblings." She said. "Anyway I also told your father not to get killed out there, but remind him just in case would you Aegon?"

"Of course mother…" Aegon said while Elaena walked over and sat down beside her other son. "…will you two be fine here? A horn-blowing isn't the most…comfortable sound to be heard…"

"That's an understatement." Elaena said with a laugh, holding her son and rocking him back to sleep, having been roused by her and Aegon's arrival. "Don't worry we can handle the children just fine. Unless of course you meant that we can't handle a horn-blowing ourselves…"

Elaena trailed off with a smile, and Aegon laughed at her while Daenys smiled. "Of course not…" Aegon said, stepping further into the room and caressing Elaena's face. "…well if that's all there is…"

He trailed off, and Elaena nodded in farewell. Aegon stepped back and embraced his mother, who held his face in her hands. "You've grown up so well Aegon." She said. "Don't throw it all away out there alright?"

"Yes mother."

Daenys smiled. "Don't worry about Hexys and Silverwing." She said, referring to her and Elaena's dragons. "They'll probably get a bit bad-tempered that we won't be riding them to war with the other dragonlords, but I'm sure extra food for the next couple of days should solve that problem."

"You should take them out for a ride too." Aegon said, and Elaena nodded.

"That's a good idea. We'll keep it in mind."

Aegon smiled and nodded, and kissed his mother on the cheek before heading out towards the highest tower of the castle, or rather the ramparts adjacent to the tower, and from where the chanting of sorcerers could be heard by the assembled dragonlords below. Aegon exchanged a nod with his father as he arrived, and a few more nods with other dragonriders. Most of them looked cold and grim, and in the case of the honorary ones, apprehensive.

Aegon couldn't blame them of course.

The blowing of a dragon horn was sorcery of the highest degree, a violation of the natural order on a level so profound that it struck at the very heart of those that heard it. It was terrible and perhaps wrong, but necessary. Dragons were fire and magic made flesh, and would not suffer the will of even the greatest of men lightly or completely.

And even Valyrian dragonlords were still men, and they knew that to wield power they had to recognize and respect that fact. Hence the necessity for dragon horns, though as with all great accomplishments a price must be paid to achieve it.

Even the miracles of magic had prices attached to them.

A sorceress cloaked and hooded in gold and red walked to the gathered dragonlords and bowed. In one hand she held a dagger with a long blade forged of dragonglass, while behind her in matching red and gold was an acolyte with a bowl of dragonsteel inscribed with glyphs. Gaemon Targaryen was the first to pay of life to strengthen his connection to his dragon, frozen fire drawing the offering of blood and spilling it into the bowl.

One by one the dragonlords and dragonladies offered their blood, the sorceress healing their injuries after they made their individual offerings, and then with another bow left accompanied not only be her acolyte but also by Gaemon Targaryen. "Here it comes." One dragonlord muttered, and Aenyx looked at him.

"I thought there was a ritual involved during the blowing of a dragon horn." He said.

"There is." The dragonlord replied. "But it's not for the faint-hearted. It's one thing killing another man with your sword, or even burning them with your dragon's fire. And it's another thing entirely, to use them as fuel for magic."

"It's a necessity." A dragonlady nearby added. "Power demands sacrifice, as much as our ambitions here demand sacrifice. But we don't necessarily have to like it. It simply has to be done."

Aenyx hesitated, and then swallowed. "Have you…have you ever seen and not just heard a horn-blowing?" he asked.

The two of them nodded, and Aenyx paused again. Before he could continue, another dragonlord spoke up. "What was it like?" he asked.

"It was hideous." The dragonlord from before replied. "As our female colleague put it, it's a necessity, but not something to be relished. The dark side of our greatest achievement I suppose."

Aenyx looked up at the tower looming overhead, and then started as someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his and spotted the dragonlady he'd befriended yesterday, Renaera Tareris. "Your first time hearing a dragon horn?" she asked, and he nodded hesitantly.

One of the dragonlords he'd spoken to smiled thinly. "Well now…" he said. "…perhaps we'll see if you're worth the title you've been given, shall we?"

Renaera gave him a dirty look, but Aenyx again craned his head up towards the tower. "Would you care to watch?" another dragonlord, an older one with a neatly-trimmed beard asked. "You can if you want, just go up there. But I would advise against it. And steel yourself: even just hearing it will test you."

Aenyx nodded. "Thanks for the advice." He said. "And I think I'll just stay here. I know enough, from the stories, to know what's coming."

The older dragonlord nodded in approval, while another one smirked and made to say anything, only to fall silent at the elder's stern glance. Silence fell, broken only by the chanting above.

* * *

A circle had been cut into the stone floor, broken at fourteen points with interlocking septagrams, glyphs indicating the name of each of the fourteen gods and goddesses of Valyria inscribed on the space within each point. At the tip of each point stood a sorcerer, each holding aloft gilded staffs topped with gilded dragons wreathed in sorcerous flame. Heat and light the flames emitted, and yet the dragons remained untouched, and the staffs cool to the hand.

Behind the sorcerers in a great circle stood a choir of acolytes, vocalizing and chanting to the rhythmic tapping of the sorcerers' staffs. And kneeling before each sorcerer facing the glyphs of the Valyrian gods and goddesses was a slave, stripped and shaved, bleeding glyphs carved into their flesh. Blood ran down their bodies to the stone floor, where it pooled and spread, yet by some sorcerous miracle it refused to run into the grooves cut into the stone.

The chanting continued as Gaemon, the ranking sorceress, and her acolyte arrived. With them came a group of men carrying a massive chest bound with dragonsteel. The sorceress opened the chest with a touch of her hand, and the men lifted the great horn from within, made of dragonbone and bound with dragonsteel, inscribed with glyphs of power.

The acolyte poured the gathered blood of the dragonriders below into the grooves of the stone floor, where they ran unsullied with the blood of sacrifices until the circle was fully-consecrated with the dragonriders' blood, the dragonsteel bowl impossibly clean afterwards. The men stepped forward, carrying the horn and placing it reverently in the middle of the circle.

The power of a dragon horn might be terrible and fearful to invoke, but it was still a cause for grim reverence and pride for the people of Valyria.

As one the sorcerers raised their staffs and brought it down on a resounding note. The acolytes fell silent, the sounds of nature – the blowing of the wind, the sighing of the sea, the rumble of the Dragonmont, the breathing of man and beast – alone to be heard. And then with the smooth sound of glass against cloth, the sorcerers drew dragonglass blades from their robes, and in one smooth motion slit the necks of the sacrifices open.

The slaves fell forward, blood spilling onto the glyphs of the Valyrian pantheon. The glyphs flashed with fire, hungrily consuming the dying slaves and setting the bloody circle of power alight. The head sorceress stepped forward, cloak and robes alike falling as she traversed the circle of power untouched by fire, until she stood before dragon horn, the sounds from the sorcerers and their acolytes now accompanied by the crackling of sorcerous fire.

 _Fire cannot harm a dragon._

The sorceress drew her breath, silence falling once more with a resounding note of the sorcerers' staffs, the flames ebbing to a low point. And then putting her lips to the horn, she blew.

The sound of what seemed like thousands of souls in agony tore through the air, the sorcerers and acolytes sinking to their knees as the fire rose in a burning spiral high into the sky where it exploded into the form of a great and fiery dragon which roared a thunderous roar drowning out even the horn's actual sound. Only Gaemon Targaryen stood unbowed, unheeding of the sorcerous heat from without and the sorcerous heat raging within, watching as the fiery dragon spent itself.

And its roar was answered.

From the Dragonmont dragons roared as they took to the skies, and Gaemon Targaryen turned his gaze from the dragons wheeling up from the blackened slopes of the Dragonmont to form a great spiral above Dragonstone, and addressed the ranking sorceress as her acolytes helped her robe herself. "Your services are appreciated sorceress." He said. "And we will have need of them in the future."

"We all serve the Freehold as our talents would best." The sorceress replied with a bow.

"Quite…" Gaemon said, walking over to the parapet as he spotted one dragon, the scales the colour of sapphire but with his horns, crest and wings the colour of the starless night, wheel and spiral its way down from the dragons above to the castle beneath. Gaemon tensed as Vyrinx swooped towards the tower, and then he jumped, landing in a crouch on the dragon's crest and ran still crouched to the chained saddle behind his dragon's neck.

Vyrinx flew once around the castle as his rider bound himself to his saddle, and then with a flyby that covered Dragonstone's castle town with his shadow flew back into the sky. One by one, other dragons flew down, dragonlords jumping off of the ramparts to land with inhuman accuracy on their dragons.

* * *

Aeryx marvelled at the ease with which he seemed to…communicate for lack of a better word – since dragons couldn't talk per se – with his Seafyre, and marvelled even more at how… _right_ it felt. Even the sheer terror he had felt at the blowing of the dragon horn – and he was _glad_ to not have been the only dragonlord to have been physically cowed at the sorcerous flame that had split the pre-dawn darkness – was gone.

No…it was gone even _before_ he had seemingly lost his mind, jumping off of Dragonstone to land on Seafyre's crest and clambering to his saddle. In his place he felt…exhilaration, freedom, confidence…as though the world was his and his alone.

Reason spoke against it and he heeded it but…the feeling was still there, and he relished it.

" _Is this what it's like to finally be a dragonlord?_ " he thought. All 'born' dragonlords had at least heard one horn-blowing before they came of age, unlike honorary dragonlords like him. Now he realized that simply taming a dragon wasn't enough.

It was enough for the honorary title, but to actually _be_ a dragonlord…more was needed.

And he had it now.

" _Can you hear me Seafyre?_ " he thought. " _Let's get through this together, and soar in the heavens on wings of fire!_ "

Seafyre roared his agreement, and Aeryx laughed loud and uncaring as he and his dragon joined the great dance of dragons above Dragonstone. "Well done…!" Aeryx heard someone shout from behind him, and he turned his head to spot one of the dragonlords from before, the one who had spoken down to him. "How does it feel, being a _true_ dragonlord?"

"It feels great!" he shouted back. "I don't know about you, but I don't think this is a feeling that could be beat!"

"No arguments there." The other dragonlord said. "I'm Aenar Velaeris. What's yours?"

"Aenyx…!" he said, recognizing the name of the mightiest of the dragonlord families. "Sorry about not recognizing you earlier but…"

"Ah don't sweat it." Aenar said. "I'm just a spare anyway…though I don't plan to just stay that way, any more than you probably want to stay without a noble name, isn't that right?"

"I won't deny that." He replied, and they shared a laugh before a shout caught their attention.

"Heads-up…!" another dragonlord shouted, pointing to where Gaemon Targaryen and his dragon – mighty and worthy of a Lord Freeholder even when compared to those of the high-ten – was breaking the dance and heading west, away from where the pearl and rose of dawn was breaking over the horizon.

As one the dragonlords and dragonladies followed the Lord Freeholder, a great V of dragons and their riders flying high over the Blackwater towards the Sunset Kingdoms. As dawn continued to break, Aenyx noticed smaller or even the average-sized dragons sporting armour over their scales.

Not so with the bigger ones, though that was to be expected: the elder dragons' scales would probably only be surpassed by dragonsteel, and if making armour for men out of dragonsteel would be prohibitively expensive, how much more for dragons.

Still it was food for thought, and while his Seafyre's scales were formidable, they weren't invincible.

"Lord Velaeris…" he shouted over the wind. "…if I might ask, what material is usually used to make armour for dragons?"

"Dragonbone…" he replied, also shouting over the wind. "…dragonsteel's too expensive, and ordinary steel's too heavy to be used in useful amounts. Dragonbone though…it's as hard as steel, but as light as and can be worked like wood. It's perfect for dragon armour."

"Though it can be expensive…" Renaera added from behind them. "…if you don't have a stock of them handy that is."

Aenyx nodded sagely, understanding what she meant. The dragonlord families kept the bones of their fallen dragons, and while it felt a bit like desecration, on the other hand being used to protect their descendants seemed a better fate than gathering dust in some crypt in a field or underground. "What about the wings?" he asked. "That doesn't look like dragonbone, more like leather. Moulted dragonskin…?"

"You guess right." Aenar answered with a grin. "And just call me Aenar, or if it still makes you uncomfortable, Lord Aenar."

"I…yes Lord Aenar."

* * *

The dragonriders flew on in silence, every one of them letting the soothing breeze and the gentle play of cool air and gentle dawn warmth stimulate their thoughts. Gaemon was thinking of names for his new colony. Aegon was thinking of a country manse to raise his and Elaena's children in, and so on further down the generations. Renaera was thinking of the unexplored reaches – from the Valyrian perspective – of the Sunset Kingdoms, and of how she'd love an opportunity to explore it on her Starflame's back.

Aenyx was thinking of how much land and glory he'd have to earn to snag himself a noble name and a pretty girl to spend the rest of his life in peace with. Many if not most cadet lines in any case preferred and were allowed to stay away from the politics of the capital, managing the family estates under their name instead, and he hoped to do the same here in the Sunset Kingdoms.

Aenar was thinking along similar lines, although in his case he cared less for a noble name – he already had one – and more recognition from his father, who always seemed to overlook him for his elder brothers and sisters (which at times led Aenar to wonder if his being overlooked was merely the result of his being a _seventh_ son with no sister left to marry with their mother's age having finally caught up with her). Land and glory in the Sunset Kingdoms seemed to promise that recognition, and perhaps an advantageous marriage – in both personal and political terms – with it.

Cheers and shouts went up as they rode past a patch of cloud, and they spotted before them gleaming in the morning, the white shores and green hills of the lands of the west. "The Sunset Kingdoms…" Aegon shouted to his father. "…our Sunset Kingdoms, father."

Gaemon nodded, turning his head to see the great encampment being set up on both sides of the Blackwater Rush by the army, with the fleet – well at least a part of it – anchored by the shore, smaller ships lashed together into a makeshift quay to offload supplies on. "Yes our Sunset Kingdoms…" he echoed. "…and that shall be the name of our legacy: Sunset Harbour."

* * *

A/N

And cut…!

Sorcery's not pretty, especially since Valyrian sorcerers in my interpretation are basically a whole order of Melisandres (not that it's a bad thing seeing as she's really pretty to say the least) only without the religious overtones. Well high-level sorcery isn't pretty but the low-level ones shouldn't be too bad.

And yes, Sunset Harbour is this story's version of King's Landing. Given that its foundations will be laid at the height of Valyrian power and will be built under the direction of _resident_ Valyrian engineers and architects, well let's just it will be a very different city compared to King's Landing.


End file.
